Fear and Death
by StorySmall
Summary: A first-person perspective of a woman at a heartbreaking and terrifying funeral that she will never, ever forget.


The first person perspictive as told an elderly widow.

* * *

"Is she dead?"

It was the kind of question that tears at your heart, but there was no hiding the answer.

"Yes, sweetie, she's dead. Was she your sister?"

"Yes."

He looked so small, standing next to the casket. Any other day, I would have guessed he was twelve, but now, dear mercy, now he seemed no more than a little child.

It's horrible to see someone so young die. I never knew the poor girl, but just looking at her little face brought tears to my eyes, and now, seeing her brother there, innocently asking if she's gone… I feared my heart would break to pieces.

"Are your parents here?"

"No, they are coming late."

The boy never took his eyes of the girl's peaceful face. I turned to look again at the pale skin, haloed by a head of thick brown hair, identical to the little boy's.

"Are you sure she's dead?" the child asked, still staring at her motionless figure.

"Yes, the doctors did everything they could, but she's gone," I was beginning to choke up, this place…I never should have come, "She's in a better place now."

"Where?" the boy asked tiredly.

"She's in heaven with the angels," I said softly, bending down to his size. I rested my hand on his shoulder, but the poor child still didn't move.

"I don't think so," he said.

"Well, why not?" I hoped he wouldn't answer, "Don't you believe in heaven?"

"If she's in heaven," the boy finally turned and looked me in the eye, "Why can I still hear her?"

I wasn't sure what to say. I led the dear thing away from the casket and set him next to me on a pew. "What do you mean, you can hear her?" I asked as gently as I could. I was no therapist, but I couldn't watch the little boy go mad, even from so close a death.

"She's laughing."

I was silent and listened to the air. I heard naught but quiet murmurs and guests stifling their sobs. "I can't hear her," I whispered softly, "I think you're hearing things."

The boy looked around him slowly.

"Okay," he said softly, and he laid his head on my shoulder. I was most uncomfortable, sitting there with a strange boy leaning against me, but even when an old man I presumed was his grandfather came to have the child sit with him, the boy just shook his head and closed his eyes.

He sat like that through the service, and even through the times we were supposed to stand, I sat, and he lay on my shoulder. I began to wonder if he had fallen asleep, but when they were closing the casket, he stirred, and looked up.

"Did you sleep, dear?" I asked, gently fingering his hair.

"Is she dead?"

I looked at him carefully, to see if he was teasing, but he looked up at me, with all the sadness and exhaustion you can see in a pair of eyes…it broke my heart.

"Yes, dear, she's dead."

"But she's laughing."

Again, he heard laughter, and again, I heard nothing.

"Perhaps," I thought aloud, "Perhaps you can hear her laughing from that better place I told you about. Perhaps she's having such a glorious time, she can't help but laugh."

"That's not it," the boy said, matter-of-factly, watching as they moved the casket away, "She's making fun of me."

Now I didn't know what to say. I simply looked up at the pulpit hoping perhaps he'd forget or lose interest.

"Why is she laughing?"

Dear mercy. "Why don't you find your grandfather, dear," I suggested.

"Why can I hear her laughing?"

"I don't know, child!" I had tears rolling down my face. I don't know if I was deeply saddened or afraid.

The boy was silent for a moment and he sat back down in his seat. I kept my gaze fixed forward, but to my horror, I realized we were the only ones in the room.

"Sweetie, we need to move on now," I said nervously. I don't know why, but I was beginning to sweat.

"Make her stop."

"I can't make her stop, she's not here," I tried to explain.

"Stop laughing!" The boy was shouting at nothing. I believe I cried out then, I was terrified.

"No! Stop! It's not fair!"

I was through. Let the boy's relatives come back for him, I was too afraid to think. I stood up and ran for the door, but to my horror, they slammed closed in front of me, and the room became dark.

"Child! What is happening!"

"Stop it! Stop it!" The boy cried, covering his ears. His eyes were wide with fear and tears flowed down his cheeks.

"Please stop, child!" I begged, "Please-"

But then I heard it. Innocent, but mocking, it was a little girl's laughter. She was laughing loud and hard, the sound rang in my ears.

The boy screamed, and all the furniture in the room floated up in the air and began to circle a figure. Looking up, I saw a pale little girl, identical to the one that had died, she was casting a green glow that enveloped the furniture and lit the big room. She was laughing at the boy's screaming, laughing at my horror, laughing at the heavy pews that were colliding with the walls and knocking things down. Laughing, laughing, it felt like my heart had stopped.

_"__I'm dead and you're not! I'm dead and you're not!"_ Came a voice like the girl's through the laughter, as if she had two voices, _"You'll never see me again, you have to live in pain!"_

"Stop it! I don't need you anymore!" The boy screamed at her, stomping his foot against the ground.

The girl laughed harder, _"You're all alone! You're all alone! You're all alone!" _It sounded just like a playground taunt.

"Child please! You must calm down!" I begged the boy, "Don't listen to her!"

_"__You're gonna be sad! You're gonna be lonely! I'm gonna laugh while you're miserable!"_

"NO!" The boy fell to his knees, "Don't do this to me!"

_"__Hah hah! Hah Hah!" _the girl came down close and laughed, standing directly in front of the miserable boy.

"You can't make me! I won't be alone!" the boy screamed, swiping at the girl, but his arm passed clean through her.

_"__There's only one way!" _As he girl spoke, a small dagger appeared and clanged on the hard floor in front of the boy. _"Come be with me…forever!"_

"No!" That was all I got out before the boy picked up the knife and stabbed his own chest in one smooth motion. "NO!" I screamed again, closing my eyes.

At that moment, there was a bang, and a I heard the pastor's voice say, "What's going on in here?" I looked up, and to my surprise, everything was back in order. The lights were back on, the pews were neatly arranged, the holes in the walls where the pews smashed against them were gone, and the doors and windows were open as if they were never closed.

"Th-the boy! Th-th-the boy, where is he?" I cried, searching around in a panic.

"What boy? The Pines boy?" One of the men asked, helping me up.

"Th-the little girl's brother, where is he?"

Then I heard a scream. One of the women buried her face in her husband's shoulder, and he too, jumped back in surprise. I moved faster than I have in years, and in a flash I was at the pew near the sobbing woman. The same pew where the boy and I had sat moments ago, and there he was. He was lying face-down on the seat, whose curved shape caught all the blood in the back. I slumped down in horror, and a few of the men dashed over to the small figure. Everything became a blur, as I fell down to my knees behind the bloody pew. It was then I noticed something. Written on the back of the pew, perhaps in blood, was this:

_Alone_

_Sad _

_Miserable_

_Lonely_

_Dead_

_Together_

It was then I heard it…the haunting laughter of two dead little children.

* * *

AN: Hey, I wrote a horror story. It's told by a little old lady, not me.

I didn't use a single name. Nope, nope. So I won't use names it the notes. The little girl is not actually telling the boy to kill himself, that is a personification on the boy's fears, and in the end, the boy and girl represented our narrator's fear. I hope that made sense.

Tell me what you think!

This story is partly based off a peom I wrote. You can find it by going to my profile and following the link entitled "Her Ghost".


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